


Sanity Plea

by Dawnwind



Category: Invisible Man (TV 2000)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-08
Updated: 2011-04-08
Packaged: 2017-10-17 18:09:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/179735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawnwind/pseuds/Dawnwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darien's mood darkens when the counteragent no longer works. Post Possessed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sanity Plea

_"I'm so scared that I'll never get put back together…"_  
"Bent' Matchbox 20

So, that was it.

The counteragent number two, supposedly new and improved, was a bust, and the original no longer completely reversed the buildup of quicksilver in my blood. This was the beginning of the end.

I sat on the exam chair with my legs drawn up, right forearm resting on my knees so that it was at eye level. I rubbed my left thumb over the tattoo on my wrist, gently at first and then harder as if friction could change those three red segments back to green. It had been less than an hour since Claire had injected my most recent dose of counteragent but those last three traitorous segments refused to submit and go gloriously green. The red tail on the snake made me think of a rattler ready to strike. A coiled snake ready to sink its fangs into me to flush my system with poisonous venom. But, the venom was already there, released in my body with adrenaline, all courtesy of the biosynthetic gland my own brother had cursed me with.

How long before a fourth segment turned ominously red? And then the rest? Until I was mad, permanently mad, because the counteragent no longer had any effect on me at all?

It used to be, if I didn't use any quicksilver at all, there were six glorious days before I needed another shot. Well, five days that I didn't even worry about, and then that last day where the pressure would start to build up in my skull and the headaches would start chipping away at my resolve. I'd start pestering Claire for a shot early, just to relieve the stress and knowledge of what was to come. Red eyes and total psychopathic inhibitions.

And every time she'd warn me that overusing the counteragent could lead to immunity and a lessening of the effects. So, now that time had come, but I wasn't ready to let go of my sanity yet. If Claire had managed to manufacture a second counteragent, couldn't she find a third version?

Right now she was across the lab, just out of my line of vision, hunched over her computer terminal, trying to throw me a lifeline. Because, before I went permanently mad, I would kill myself. Madness equated death in the Book of Darien Fawkes.

Already I felt cold, as if the quicksilver in my blood was freezing my cells, slowly but surely choking off every good, warm thing inside me, until my body was nothing but a repository for that fucking gland.

"How ya doin', Fawkes?" Bobby's voice was pitched low and intimate. I hadn't even realized he was still in the Keep. Had he been hiding in the shadows, staying as far away as possible?

"I thought you'd left," I said, amazed how steady my voice sounded. I turned my wrist downward, no longer able to abide the sight of that treacherous snake.

"Bobby Hobbes doesn't bail on his partner, no matter what." He slid a hand over my heart, his fingers just caressing the skin showing where my shirt was unbuttoned. His touch was the only warmth I could feel.

"Now even when I'm cookoo nuts?"

"Not ever," Hobbes whispered, his breath melting the ice on my cheek.

Suddenly I wanted out of this laboratory prison immediately. Maybe I could get warm outside, in the sunshine.

"Claire, I wanna get out of here, go home."

"Oh, Darien." She stood, approaching me, one hand still clutching a sheath of computer printouts. She looked stricken and scared and I was the reason. I knew how she felt.

I could tell she wanted me here, under her thumb, where she could experiment on her favorite lab rate with convenience, only we all knew it was too late. There wasn't any version three. Not in all her computer simulations and data charts. Alpha and omega. The beginning and the end.

"I'll stay with him." Hobbes offered, his hand now discreetly on my arm. My heart was so cold without his touch I was amazed that it hadn't frozen solid in mid beat.

"All right," Claire agreed reluctantly, biting uncertainly on her bottom lip. "Keep in touch, I'll be working here all night."

"Got the cell phone." I nodded bleakly, Bobby's hand tightening around my arm as I stood.

"Darien." Claire came up, leaning forward to give me a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'll find it. I promise."

"Thanks." I could barely get the words out, already there was pressure in my head, forcing my throat closed. "For trying."

She turned away abruptly, blond hair swinging around her face like a curtain, but I think she was crying.

"C'mon, Fawkes. Trust the Keep, she's a genius." Hobbes sounded falsely cheery, a strange smile on his face like that sad sack clown who had to draw his smile on with grease paint.

"A genius put the gland in." I kept pace with him, but I barely felt like I was walking. More like my feet were just moving of their own accord. "I've had it with geniuses."

"How bout an ex-genius?" Hobbes looked up at me with those deep brown eyes, referring to his brief exposure to a substance which had substantially increased his I.Q until he was going crazy from the overload of information.

"The best thing there is," I said sincerely, drowning in those eyes. "Take me home."

"Your place is kinda trashed," he pointed out. I had reduced my possessions to rubble fighting a losing battle with the frightening anger of quicksilver madness only the day before. "What about chez Hobbes?"

"As long as it's warm." I didn't have a jacket and even in direct sunlight I was shivering.

"Get in, I'll crank Golda's heater up as high as she goes," Hobbes said, never once asking why I could possibly be cold in the middle of summer in San Diego.

 _God, I loved him._

Ignoring the streets whizzing by as Hobbes directed the van over to the Marina, I went back to studying my tattoo. Now there were four red segments. Another step on the road to madness. At this rate, my little snake would be scarlet by tomorrow. I was terrified.

"I'm going to…" I stopped, knowing if I waited until there were eight or nine red segments, I might already be convulsing from the pain and my hand might not be steady enough to hold a gun to do the job just right. I felt wretched asking my partner and best friend for a thing like this, but I also knew he would do anything for me.

"Bobby, just before I'm permanently ready for the straight jacket and padded room, put a bullet in my brain." There it was said, but he didn't react for a moment. We'd discussed this other times, but never when the end was actually tangible. "Promise me."

"I know what you want me to do, Darien," he answered slowly with a catch in his voice. "I've always known, but I'm stayin' on the positive side here. One of us has to. Claire will come through, somehow."

"Bobby Hobbes positive? Hard to swallow."

"Hey, I may be a paranoid, delusional manic depressive, but I have a very sunny disposition." He pulled the van into the parking space behind his condo, reaching out to take my frigid hand in him warm one. "We will get through this together."

I don't even remember going in the condo, but all of a sudden I was on the couch, wrapped in Bobby's arms. Physically, he's much smaller than I am, but this time he was a huge being, surrounding me, engulfing me in his warmth.

Bobby's lips pressed against my icy flesh, trailing a line of fiery kisses from my chin to my pectorals, his fingers unbuttoning my shirt all the while. I ached for the contact, needing Bobby's presence. Pulling his mouth back to mine I sucked eagerly on the thrusting tongue, hungry for his taste.

This wasn't the first time, or even the second that we'd ended up in each other's arms, but it felt like the last time. I cherished each kiss, every single caress and lingering touch, knowing I might never have them again. His hands pushed my shirt off, letting it drop behind the couch without a second glance. Despite the loss of that article of clothing, arousal was working like El Nino, warming my core. My brain had sort of short circuited, allowing pure emotion to take over but stirrings in my groin showing that some part of my body was working properly. Bobby continued to work his own brand of magic, touching me so purely it caused both pleasure and despair.

I felt frantic, but hardly able to make my own hands work. Finally, I let the sensations of Bobby's seduction wash over me, content just to have my arms around his strong shoulders. Kisses covered my torso, lips sucking on the hard knot of my nipple, until I couldn't wait much longer.

Amazingly, I was still fully visible at that point. Bobby usually teases me with names like Pegleg and Captain Hook since the rush of adrenaline in love making causes my heart rate to increase and the quicksilver to flow. Often times, this results in just the loss of one or two limbs, hence the nicknames. Today, my heart beat only for my partner, and even though it had finally broken free of the iceberg in my chest, pounding against my ribs like a butterfly captured in a jar, I hadn't involuntarily gone see-thru.

"Bobby, please," I begged, fumbling for his fly. "I need you inside me. Forever."

We managed to get both of our pants down and off without breaking out of a clinch and very quickly I could feel Bobby's questing fingers easing open my ass cheeks.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked, lips moving against my collarbone.

"Always," I vowed. "Please."

He had to leave just long enough to get a tube of lubricant from the bedroom but I felt chilled to the bone from his absence, so I followed after him. The bed was bigger than the couch, and there were advantages to being able to stretch out. I wouldn't end up kicking him off the edge as I'd done on our first trembling attempts at sex on the couch, so many months ago.

Arranging pillows behind my spine, I reclined with my knees bent up almost to my chin, but this way I could have him inside me and see his face at the same time. I wouldn't mind if that were the last sight I ever had.

Coating his fingers with the slippery substance, Hobbes gently inserted them inside me, pushing carefully towards the prostate gland. I was barely hanging on, no longer in the mood for foreplay. "Now, Hobbes, you…in me."

"Eager beaver, aren't you." He chuckled, using the lubricant on his fingers to prepare his cock. I reached down, desperate to touch him at last, to connect and feel good. My hands slid down the pulsing reddened shaft, stroking his length and trying to guide him inside. My angle was poor and I couldn't see the target well enough with my knees up like this.

"Come on, partner, I know how tab A fits into slot B." Bobby put his hands over mine, pushing his steel hard rod into me.

Despite my fervent desire, I was still too tense and a brief spasm of pain made me hiss, clamping up further.

"Relax, Gland Boy." Hobbes started to pull out, but I pushed his hands away, taking slow breaths until my sphincter muscles unclenched. Bobby slid in without further ado, the incredable rush arching me off the bed, my whole body on fire. I was burning up, the ice melting so quickly sizzling filled my ears and I couldn't see for the steam filling the room. My vision was reduced to grays and blacks. It wasn't until then that I realized I'd quicksilvered us both. I could feel Bobby all around and inside me, but couldn't see him right front of me.

"Oh, God, Bobby…more." I jammed my pelvis into his balls, crushing them between our bodies. Hobbes had begun to milk my penis, his hands rhythmically pumping the shaft until I could hardly breathe because my whole body was throbbing, pounding in time to the pulsing of my partner's heart. We were one being.

The rush sent us both crashing down together, Hobbes collapsing onto my chest, his cock still enveloped im my body. I closed my knees around him so he couldn't leave. Stroking the fine curls at the back of his neck, I used both my thumbs to massage his tight scapula muscles. The quicksilver flaked off, letting me see my lover once again.

"Y'know I'm crazy about you," Hobbes laughed, tipping his chin up so the hard point dug into my chest. I didn't care a bit. Those dark, chocolate eyes held me fast.

"I wouldn't let that get around, if I were you," I gulped, ridiculously close to crying.

"I think I'd be crazy without you."

"Damn, Bobby…" And the dam broke, sobs spilling out like a faucet had been turned on. I tried to turn away, but we were still too closely entwined, and there was no way I could hide the terror any more. Hobbes disengaged from me, pushing down my knees so he could get his arms around me, just holding me while the waterworks flowed.

"Hey, hey," He soothed awkwardly. "It's just a saying-I'm crazy any ol' way."

"Least you got meds that work." I lay my head on his shoulder, both of us against the headboard of the bed. I was limp as a wrung out dishrag, weary of the battle already and the fight for my sanity had barely begun.

"Yeah, but there was a long process of trial and error. That's what you got ahead of you, buddy. Trust in Claire."

"Well, we just turned two segments red in under five minutes." I held up my wrist as if it were a ticking time bomb, "Hellova way to go. I guess."

"See, you're thinkin' more positive here." Hobbes nodded emphatically, "Wanna go for the whole snake?" He grinned wickedly, running a suggestive finger down to my groin.

That made me laugh, as sick as it was. "Hey, apparently I can do that one in my sleep." I joked feebly, because I still truly had no memory of going from counteragent injection to silver eyed stage five madness in under twelve hours, but it had happened just this morning. "I just scares the shit out of me, Bobby. What if she can't find another counteragent that works."

"Right now the original isn't workin' as good as it used to, you'll need it more often, and we'll have to be a damned sight more vigilant--but it still works, Darien."

"Sort of. I just don't want to go stage five again."

"Now that I can understand," he agreed ruefully with a grimace. "Not the most fun Bobby Hobbes has ever had--well, except for getting the Fat Man down on the floor for a some push-up. Actually that kind of made my day."

"I'll bet."

"But I'm more sorry than you know about this." He kissed me with infinite gentleness on my bruised forehead, courtesy of his fist from this morning.

"Well, I figure it makes us about even, since I tried to…" I slipped my hands around his neck, pulling him into a more satisfying kiss that lingered for some moments.

"Old history, my friend, I just know never to offer you a donut ever again,"   
Hobbes teased, and I couldn't believe it but I joined him. Some part of me was still cowering in the corner of the room, waiting for the black cloud of madness to descend on me like a shroud that I could never remove and another part of me could enjoy the moment with my best friend as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

"Thank you, Bobby," I said, holding the cold of the quicksilver at bay, just beyond a transparent barrier. I could sense it in my mind, but for now I still had control.

"You're a fighter, Darien, fight back," Hobbes replied simply.

But there was a battle going on inside my mind, a struggle for control. How can you fight yourself and win?

 

FIN


End file.
